Spectrumsempra
by kci47
Summary: These are unrelated drabbles I've written for various challenges over at GrangerSnape100. Some are really, really fluffy; at least one is angsty. The increased M rating is for the topic of 'Two Minutes'. *Thanks to duj for the title suggestion!*
1. In Death

**Author's Note: This drabble was my first ever, written in response to the "dead" challenge at GrangerSnape100 on livejournal. I'm not JK Rowling, and I only make money from these in my wildest fantasies.**

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><p>Hermione sank to her knees on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, tears pouring silently down her face. Without warning, Snape's eyes locked onto hers, and images began to flash across her mind, like a film: Snape, complaining that her mind shouldn't be wasted in Gryffindor; a grin as she successfully passed her OWLs; petitioning for her appointment as Head Girl; demanding that Phineas Nigellus find out whether "the girl" was unharmed.<p>

His eyes returned to Harry's. Hermione gasped with understanding: in death, Snape showed her all the pride and admiration he had not been able to show in life.


	2. Three Knocks

**Author's Note: Written in response to the "knock late at night" challenge at GS100. Not JK Rowling; still poor.**

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><p>"I do hope you have a very good reason for disturbing me at this hour, Miss Granger," Snape growled as he opened his door.<p>

Hermione stood there, giggling nervously. "Yes - ah - I am supposed to ask you - have you, um, ever ridden a broomstick naked?" Hers was not the only laughter that rang out in the hallway.

"Detention," he snarled, slamming the door shut. The students were more ridiculous every year. On second thought…

"Miss Granger." She turned from her friends to look apprehensively. "Every Tuesday."

He shut the door again, this time to astonished silence.

"I do hope you have a very good reason for disturbing me at this hour, Miss Granger," Snape growled as he opened his door.

Gasping in pain, Hermione fell into his quarters. "Need - help...only - you...do not - tell..." She collapsed onto the floor, her eyelids flickering shut. Instantly his annoyance morphed to panic.

He knew immediately that this was no ordinary curse, and quickly began to murmur a series of counterjinxes as he desperately hoped that he would not be too late to save her. These days, however, it seemed that he was almost always too late.

"I do hope you have a very good reason for disturbing me at this hour, woman," Tobias Evans growled as he opened his door.

"As a matter of fact, I do, _Severus_," Hermione whispered. Their eyes drank each other in after months apart. She was terrifyingly beautiful, a crazed angel on a mission. He was healthier, she could tell, but not happier. She would change that. "I have finally found you, you see, and I think you should know: I love you."

Her gaze brushed the scar on his neck as she leaned forward to kiss an unprotesting Snape.


	3. Rediscovered, Undiscovered

**Author's Note: Written in response to the "twin" challenge at GS100. I'm not JK Rowling, nor am I making money from these.**

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><p>"Oh, Severus," Hermione sighed happily. A feeling of bliss stole over her as she linked her arms tightly behind his head.<p>

The man froze, his lips still at her ear. "What – what did you call me?"

Giggling unaccountably, she replied, "I'm sorry – shall I call you Professor Snape? Or perhaps you would prefer your new identity, _Septimus_?" Another giggle.

Groaning, the man sat back, his head in his hands. "You're a witch." It was not a question.

"Yes, I – what?" Hermione reached out to run a hand through his short, spiky hair, but he pulled away and stood up, pacing.

"I should have known," he muttered, almost to himself. "You seemed so happy to meet me – so willing to come along – so eager to be in my company – but after so many years without meeting someone who knew him, I guess I have become complacent…" He trailed off, and Hermione stared at him, confused.

"What are you going on about?" she asked timidly, but a nasty suspicion was growing.

He turned to look at her. Sighed. "I am not Severus Snape," he stated. "I am Septimus Snape – his twin brother. His _Squib _brother." His lips twisted in a mirthless smile.

Hermione gasped. It was impossible. Her eyes roved his face, looking for something to indicate that he was joking, that here stood Severus Snape, professor, war hero. As always, that gaze remained inscrutable. All she saw was the same hooked nose, black eyes, and thin lips that she knew so well. Looking again, she tried to note differences – to no avail. Yanking back his left sleeve, she saw the truth in his unblemished wrist. "But… why do you live here? Why did you not come to his funeral? How is it that one twin is magical and the other is not?"

At her words, his whole body jerked, and he gripped her shoulders. "His… funeral?" His voice was strained.

"Oh my… but surely you knew…" He was shaking his head, no. "Oh, Sev- Septimus, I am sorry to be the one to tell you, but he – he died!" Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke, for it was like living it all over again after thinking she had found him here, miles away, safe and whole. He sank to the floor, his head bowed in sorrow. Hermione slipped down to kneel next to him, and awkwardly put her arms about him.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" he whispered. "Nevermind… I believe I know the answer to that. He would have had my existence erased, magically, I am sure," he said, bitterly.

Hermione did not know what to say to this. It seemed callous to agree with him; but denying what they both knew was true would seem even crueler. Severus Snape had not been known for his compassion, even if Hermione knew he was capable. They remained there for some time, Hermione uncomfortably hugging a man she did not know as though he was the man she had been thrilled to rediscover.

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><p><em>Well, <em>_that __was __nearly __catastrophic, _Septimus thought. The girl, Hermione, had been distraught but understanding when he had said he didn't think he could see her again. He'd allowed himself one last kiss. He hurried home and began to pack his meager belongings. He would just have to move further away, to a place where the past could not follow him.

He had never expected there to be a funeral. His shock had been genuine. He supposed Potter had made a scene and demanded that everyone pay their respect. _Obnoxious._

Severus Snape, the real one, was on the run again.


	4. Cauldron Kittens

**Author's Note: "Kitten" challenge on GS100. Not JK, not wealthy.**

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><p>"Today you will be brewing Herbicide," Professor Snape intoned. "You have one hour. Let us hope that Mr. Longbottom does not demolish half the classroom this time, too."<p>

_Pop!_

"What in the name of… is that what I think it is, Longbottom?"

"Y-y-yes, sir…" Neville stammered, alarmed.

"Do you think that is amusing? Ten points from-"

_Pop! __Pop!_

"What is going on?" Snape asked menacingly. "Whomever is behind this shall receive detentions for life-"

_Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!_

"Sir! I think it gets worse as you get angrier…"

"If wanted your opinion, Miss Granger, I would certainly have asked for it, you nosy little-"

The rest of Snape's sentence was drowned out by loud _pops _as the rest of the cauldrons turned into kittens. They were now leaping about, climbing on shelves. Students were laughing and petting them while Snape strode around, angrily trying to transfigure them back into cauldrons. As he made to grab one, two others began to climb up his robes.

"OUT!" he roared.

Scurrying into the hall, Harry asked, "What's going to happen?"

Smiling, Hermione replied, "They'll turn back into cauldrons…when he says 'Gryffindor's the best'." Laughing, they hurried away, still hearing Snape growling above the din of twenty kittens.


	5. Hermione Knows Best

**Author's Note: "I know" challenge at gs100. How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not JK Rowling. I'm also (sadly) not making money here.**

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><p>Hermione bit her lip as she concentrated on the potion simmering quietly before her. The timely addition of ingredients was of the utmost importance. She raised the bottle of dragon blood and was about to add the required four drops when someone slapped her hand away, snarling, "You silly girl! What are you doing?"<p>

Her head whipped up and she glared at Snape. Adjusting her hold on the bottle, she turned back to her cauldron, saying, "Adding the dragon's blood, of course; it's step eleven-"

But Snape yanked the bottle from her hand. Growling, she made a grab at it.

Snape held the bottle out of reach. "You need to add _salamander _blood, not dragon!" he exclaimed, rifling around on the desk for the vial.

"No!" she yelled, grasping his elbow and preventing him from adding the ingredient. "It's dragon!"

Snape merely shouldered her out of the way and prepared once again to add the salamander blood. Not to be outdone, Hermione rammed her hip into his, insinuating herself between him and the cauldron. Grabbing the abandoned dragon's blood, she made to pour it in, but before she could do so, an arm had pinned her arms to her chest.

Struggling against her captor, she watched in horror as his other hand – holding the vial of salamander blood – crept closer to the potion.

"I know what I'm doing!" she cried, bucking her hips backwards in an attempt to release herself, and looking for a foot to stomp. Snape jostled her to the side, intending to add his ingredient. Left with no alternative, Hermione allowed her whole body to become limp. The sudden weight threw Snape off-balance, and they crashed to the floor. Quickly shifting, Hermione was relieved that he had not added the salamander blood, for the smoke was purple.

"Clearly, Miss Granger, you do _not_know what you are doing," Snape hissed at her, "or else you would cease your squirming at once!" Hermione froze, looking up at Snape, who had landed on top of her. There was an unusual glint in his eyes. Slowly, a conquering grin spread across her face.

"Hm, on the contrary, I think I know exactly what I'm doing," she murmured, wriggling her hips some more before wrapping a hand in his hair and pulling his lips to hers.

Completely forgotten, the potion simmering above them slowly burned away, leaving only a melted cauldron.


	6. And This Is Why I Detest Christmas

**Author's Note: "Red nose" challenge at gs100. See how many different types of red noses you can count in these 6 drabbles! Not JK, still poor.**

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><p>"Oh, honestly, this is too far," Snape groaned as he watched the reindeer pick its way through the corridor, bells jingling, hooves clattering, nose blinking merrily. "Where did you even find this beast?" he bellowed at no one in particular. The laughing students were petting the animal and breaking out into rousing choruses of some foolish Muggle song. Striding forward, he attempted to drag the creature out of the hall by the harness, but the ridiculous thing dug in its heels and would not be moved. Snape did not see the bushy-haired girl watching and giggling from a nearby alcove.<p>

Snape had brewed and administered more batches of Pepper-Up potion than he could count, and if one more red-nosed, snotty child approached him for a cure, he was going to lose his temper. It was, quite frankly, a wonder that most children managed to survive until adulthood, seeing as how they were teeming cesspools of germs. He wondered again why he had chosen a career that placed him in such close proximity with the miniature epidemics. Not looking where he was going, Snape walked into a second-year – who promptly sneezed in his face. Make that one more dose of Pepper-Up.

The last week of classes before the holidays was always difficult, but this year particularly so. It seemed the reindeer had given some students the idea of bewitching other students' noses to turn red whenever they lied. While Snape appreciated the gesture – really, it made interrogating the students on their dismal homework submissions so much easier – he did rather wish that they had put as much effort into figuring out how to _remove_the spell. He had not been amused when his own nose changed color after he responded to Dumbledore's question about his secret love of Muggle romance novels.

The feast in the Great Hall that evening was torture. McGonagall had been overly… _friendly_… after consuming a great deal of Firewhisky-spiked eggnog, if the unbecoming flush to her features was any indication. Eager to escape, Snape was horrified to find himself frozen to the spot near the doorway: trapped under the mistletoe, in full view of the assembly, with Ron Weasley. "Bloody hell," Ron muttered. Snape agreed. Swiftly planting a kiss on the idiot boy, Snape snarled, "That shade of red is most unflattering with your hair," before running away. He knew his face was uncharacteristically crimson, as well.

He had only made it a few steps before a very short, very angry someone had punched him in the face, yelling, "Not my son, you b-oh, Professor, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me! Er, happy holidays!" Holding a hand to his now-bleeding nose, Snape glared at the retreating form of Molly Weasley, undoubtedly arrived to retrieve her unruly children and Potter for the holidays. Gently probing, Snape cursed when he realized his nose was broken. He supposed it was worth it, though, as he would treasure the memory of the nauseous look on Ron's face forever.

Finally it was Christmas, and most of the students were gone. Snape was enjoying the crisp air outside the castle, watching distractedly as snow fell. Suddenly, he was knocked over from behind as a large, warm bundle of scarves, hair and woman collided with him. Looking up, he stared directly into the visage of Hermione, her face attractively pink from the cold. "So sorry!" she squealed. "I was running from a snow fight!" Seeming to realize she was laying atop him, she stilled; then – she kissed him full on the lips. He supposed Christmas really wasn't so terrible after all.

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><p><strong>1. Reindeer's nose 2. Sick nose 3. Bewitched nose 4. Drunk nose 5. Embarrassed nose 6. Punchedbloody nose 7. Cold nose**


	7. There's Something Familiar

**Author's Note: A bit of a different take on the "secret santa" challenge at gs100. I make no claims to be JK Rowling nor do I profit from my pathetic attempts to emulate her.**

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><p>Hermione was slowly making her way home through the festive streets of Muggle London's shopping district. Her feet ached and her arms were laden with gift-filled bags, but her spirits were quite high. She loved this time of year.<p>

Deciding to stop and rest for a moment, she sat on a bench near the Santa Claus that was currently surrounded by children wanting to give him their toy lists. He was very good with the children. Smiling, she closed her eyes. That's when she heard it: "Ho ho ho! And what would you like for Christmas?" She knew that voice.

Standing up, Hermione made her way through the crowd and waited until she was next in line. One of Santa's helpers beckoned her forward, and she gingerly sat on Santa's lap, giggling. Was she mistaken, or did he press his lips together disapprovingly beneath his beard?

"And what," said the Santa in a soft, deep whisper, "do you want for Christmas this year?"

"Oh, I want to remember this vision for a very, very long time," Hermione laughed.

"How charming," he whispered again. "Merry Christmas!" he announced more loudly as Hermione stood from his lap. Then he grabbed her wrist.

"Oh, and Miss Granger?" She looked at him, one brow raised. "Be a good little girl and do not tell anyone what you saw here," he commanded.

"Hm, I will try, Professor Snape, but it will be difficult to keep this to myself." He narrowed his eyes menacingly. "Oh, do stop that, you'll frighten them! You make a very good Santa, you know," she whispered to him, grinning conspiratorially. She waved merrily as she moved away from the now-scowling Santa. Who would have thought that Professor Snape spent his holidays volunteering as a Santa Claus, willingly spending time with children?


	8. There's Something Thrilling

**Author's Note: A sequel to There's Something Familiar in response to the "secret santa" challenge. I own nothing you recognize.**

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><p>Hermione leapt out of her chair, knocking over her mug of hot cocoa, as her fire blazed green and a very tall someone spun out of the flames. Crookshanks merely opened one eye. For a moment, she just stared in disbelief as the figure brushed ashes off of his fur-lined red velvet coat. She regained her voice as he straightened.<p>

"Why, Santa, whatever are you doing here? It's still four days to Christmas!" she exclaimed, her voice full of merriment.

"I'm here," Santa replied in his deep rumble, "to ensure that you do not tell anyone about my little secret."

"Oh, don't be silly!" she answered. "I wouldn't dream of it. I'd hate to end up on the naughty list, after all." She vowed to use as many Santa puns as she could think of whenever she spoke to him in the future.

Raising one eyebrow, Santa glided closer to her. "Is that so?" he asked. "There could be certain – _benefits_ to such a placement."

The smile froze on her face as he invaded her personal space. Taking a step back, Hermione giggled nervously. "I have no idea what you mean. I've no desire to receive coal for Christmas."

"Ah, but I am not truly Santa Claus, am I, Hermione?" Her name was a seductive whisper. "Were you to find yourself on the naughty list, I can personally guarantee it would not be coal that you'd receive."

One hand reached out to stroke down her cheek, hovering briefly near her lips. Her skin erupted into goosebumps despite the way she was feeling overly warm.

"Consider it carefully," Santa suggested as he stepped towards the fireplace. "You may give your decision to my… elf." He cringed at the lameness. "I believe you know him – Severus Snape?" With that, he left.

Hermione stood rooted to the spot for several minutes after Snape disappeared. Had he been… flirting with her? Suggesting… things? Certainly, they had enjoyed a cordial relationship since she returned to Hogwarts to teach, but he had never given any indication that he was interested. When she recognized him as the Santa at the toy store, she couldn't resist sitting on his lap and teasing him about his selfless streak. Now, it appeared that had sparked something between them, and she was intrigued. And what was wrong with her, anyway, to be attracted to a man in a Santa suit?

Hermione pondered her situation all night, unable to sleep. She had made her decision nearly as soon as he'd said "naughty list" in that deep voice of his, but even her celebrated Gryffindor bravery couldn't get her to march up to him at the Christmas Eve staff party and announce that she was ready for… stuff.

As she guiltily imagined asking him to hang onto the Santa costume a little longer (_really, _what _had _gotten into her?), an idea popped into her head. He might not catch on immediately, but she rather thought it would work! She began to plot.

Hermione wasted no time putting her plan into effect. When Snape left his quarters the next morning, it was to discover that his entire classroom had been decorated with garlands, fairy lights, real reindeer, magical non-melting snow, and an irritating miniature Santa's village that would not cease playing its loop of carols no matter how many spells he fired at it. The worst part was that the entire group of students staying in the castle over the holidays – and the other teachers – arrived moments later to see "The North Pole", as the sign on his door proclaimed. Hermione smiled innocently.

That afternoon at lunch, Snape expelled his tea all over his lap after taking a large gulp and realizing that instead of his usual black, the liquid in his mug had been replaced with some peppermint concoction. Upon lifting his fork, it had transformed into a candy cane, and his knife, an icicle. Glaring down at the useless utensils, a giggle reached his ears before it was stifled. He was not surprised when a flurry of post owls arrived to rain wrapped gifts upon his head, nor when an amused McGonagall pointed out the jingling bells that had attached themselves to his robes.

Hermione thought she might need to increase her efforts to land herself on Snape's naughty list before Christmas Eve. He had only pressed his lips together in mild irritation when she had transformed his room, and the quirk of one eyebrow was his only reaction as he leaned over to purloin her fully functioning utensils at lunch. He had even stridden from the Great Hall with his usual intimidating mien intact despite the loud, festive jingling of the bells on his robes. She would have to escalate her campaign, indeed, if she hoped to convince him in two days' time…

The next morning, Snape awoke to realize that he now possessed two spiky reindeer antlers and a bright red nose. None of his attempts to remove them were successful, and he roundly cursed the bossy little witch who had put them in place. Eventually, his grumbling stomach forced him from his quarters and down to breakfast, where he was the subject of a great many stares. The few who braved laughter soon quailed under his gaze, but he knew as soon as he left their sight that the amusement would resume. Hermione's "Good morning, Rudolph!" was met with a "harrumph".

It did not help matters that upon standing from his seat at the professors' table, eight tiny penguins, all wearing matching reindeer antlers, materialized and started following along behind him in formation. What was more unfortunate was that he wanted to laugh – he knew they must make quite a picture, trotting along – but he didn't want to give Hermione the satisfaction. By now he was fairly certain he knew what she was doing, but he did not want to assume anything, and it was admittedly entertaining to guess what was going to happen next. He decided to plan his revenge.

The next day, the 23rd, Snape was relieved and disappointed when nothing unusual occurred before lunch. By the middle of the afternoon, he was worried that she'd changed her mind. Shortly before dinner, he was removed of that fear when a large clump of mistletoe appeared above his head. Groaning, he debated hiding in his rooms, but the thought of convincing Hermione to give him a kiss drove him towards the Great Hall, mistletoe bobbing along above him. Much to his consternation, the only people inclined to kiss him – repeatedly – were Professors Trelawney and Sprout. Hermione laughed all the while.

Finally, it was Christmas Eve. Hermione spent most of the day sequestered in her room, taming her hair and steeling herself for the party. She paused occasionally to cast a spell towards the dungeon – sometimes music, sometimes snow, but always irremovable. If she wasn't on his naughty list by now… well, then no one could say she hadn't tried. Nervously staring at the crimson dress which had arrived that afternoon, Hermione took a deep breath and slipped it on. The white fur trimmed the knee-length velvet skirt, and the jaunty little hat perched on her head perfectly. She was ready.

Her spirits sank when she entered the party and could not immediately locate Snape. Perhaps he had misinterpreted her actions? Or perhaps – oh, she couldn't bear it – perhaps she had misinterpreted his visit to her rooms several nights ago. Biting her lip, she moved forward and joined the conversation between several of the other professors.

About an hour later, the lights had been dimmed and everyone was feeling quite jolly. Several staff members gasped in shock as ashes spilled out of the fireplace before someone dressed as Santa tumbled forth. His eyes met hers and, relieved, she moved towards him.

"Ho ho ho!" he called, and everyone clapped. "I believe this young woman," he stepped closer to Hermione, "has been a very naughty lady these past few days."

Hermione giggled, ignoring the confused looks of the others. "Where's my coal, then, Santa?" she asked as she brought herself up to within a few inches from him, licking her lips.

"This Santa does not hand out coal, as you are well aware," he replied, his words only for her. "Now come here." He sat in a large chair that had been pushed forward at his arrival, drawing Hermione into his lap.

She shivered as his arms wrapped around her, and the feel of his velvety pants on her bare calves was nothing short of delightful. She wondered how those velvet-clad legs would feel brushing against her bare skin… elsewhere?

His lips finally met hers in the most anticipated kiss of her life. It was wonderful, magnificent, amazing. She hoped it never stopped. She leaned forward, sliding her hands about his neck.

From behind her, she heard a pouting Professor Sprout ask no one in particular, "Do you suppose Santa will bring me such a lovely gift if I misbehave next year?"


	9. Stocking Stuffed

**Author's Note: Just a short piece for the Stocking Stuffer challenge on gs100.** **I'm not JK Rowling.**

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><p>Hermione stared, appalled, at the burned, melting mass that had once been her stocking. She wondered who would've done such a horrible thing? Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of the time it'd taken to transfigure a scarf into the beautiful crimson stocking with gold embroidery. Now it was just a charred, dripping lump.<p>

Severus looked from Hermione to the stocking and back again, horror mounting. He'd only meant to give her some potion ingredients he knew she'd been eyeing the last time they'd visited the apothecary. It seemed at least one of them had escaped its packaging.


	10. Firm Resolve

**Author's Note: Resolutions challenge on gs100. Not JK Rowling, still poor, etc. I was feeling sad and angsty this morning.**

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><p>I won't try so hard to earn his respect. I won't make a nuisance of myself in class. I won't cry back in my dormitory when he marks down my assignments.<p>

Resolution broken: Two weeks.

I won't believe he's an evil Death Eater. I won't believe he could possibly fight for Voldemort. I won't believe he would betray us all in such a way.

Resolution broken: Five months.

I won't think of him when I'm alone at night. I won't wonder what it would have been like to kiss him. I won't miss him, at all.

Resolution broken: One second.


	11. A New Ingredient

**A/N: Champagne challenge and Snape's birthday challenge on gs100. Happy 52nd (?) birthday to Severus! "Obviously, simply reading this story is not an indication of your intelligence, or else you would know that kci47 is not J.K. Rowling. If she was, I feel certain that she would hardly have mistreated my person in such a manner, and I would most certainly still be alive. You are insufferable." -Severus Snape**

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><p>"Happy birthday, Severus!" Hermione planted a quick kiss on his cheek as she handed him his present. "I hope you like it - I had the devil of a time getting it through all the security."<p>

"I see," he replied, examining the dark green bottle. "Thank you."

"I've got to meet with Minerva, but we can celebrate with that later," Hermione called as she moved towards the door, winking at him.

Celebrate? With this? He was confused by her words, but he supposed he'd better get to work if she wanted to use the liquid in the bottle later tonight.

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><p>"Severus? I'm here!" Hermione's voice rang out as she let herself in to his quarters.<p>

"In here," he grunted, and he did not look up when she entered the small lab. Steam was obscuring his vision in a most irritating manner. What was worse was that he could not figure out what they were supposed to do with the new potion ingredient Hermione had given him.

"What is this blasted ingredient?" he snarled, fully aggravated.

"Ingredient?" Hermione's confused gaze landed on the glass bottle. "Severus, that's champagne! What are you-"

They were both forced to duck when his cauldron exploded.


	12. Close But Not Quite

**Author's Note: "Voyeur" challenge at gs100. I thought it would be fun if the *entire* school population was the voyeur. Also, it might not be clear, but in this drabble, Hermione is a Professor at Hogwarts.** **Still not J.K.**

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><p>"Um, Severus?" Hermione shoved at his shoulders.<p>

"Hmm?" He didn't remove his lips from her neck.

"Severus!" she hissed. "I think- can they _see _us?"

"What?" He looked up. Indeed, every one of the many students entering the hallway seemed frozen, staring in their direction, horror upon their faces. "I thought you said this was Potter's Invisibility Cloak?"

"I- yes- I took it from his trunk!" she cried, stepping away from him hurriedly.

"What is going on here, Professors?" McGonagall's voice rang out. "And why are you both wearing a see-through cloak?"

Hermione groaned. She had grabbed the _Invisible _Cloak.


	13. Harry's Worst Memory

**A/N: Wouldn't you believe it, I wished on a star last night and when I woke up this morning I STILL wasn't JK Rowling! I missed a couple of weeks on gs100, so this 600-word drabble covers the three prompts that I missed: Lily brigade, marks, and naughty nurse. Description for the Lily brigade: "Women have found out about Snape's past love and devotion from Witch Weekly (or something) and now redheads or recently dyed/glamoured redheads are pursuing him." Description for the marks: "This challenge is very open to interpretation. Is it "marks" as in school grades? Is it "marks" as in The Dark Mark? Is it "marks" as in the leaving of a memory or impression?" Naughty nurse is pretty self-explanatory. :)**

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><p>The line extending down the hallway and around the corner was astonishing. Harry had never seen so many redheads in one place before, and that was including all the Weasley functions he'd ever been to. A few whispered as he passed; one gave him a cheeky wave, calling out "Hello, son!", but mostly they remained giddily focused on the closed door. The sign out front read: S. Snape, Do Not Disturb.<p>

Harry strode up and knocked in the agreed-upon pattern. He heard Hermione call out "Come in" and hurried to slam the door on the crowd of Lily Potter lookalikes.

.oOo.

"Well, that was weird," Harry announced, bending down to hug Hermione.

"The Prophet's calling them the 'Lily Brigade'." Hermione's eye roll clearly demonstrated her feelings about the whole situation. They both chuckled. A raspy voice drew his attention to the man on the bed, swathed in bandages.

"The sign clearly says 'Do Not Disturb'. I suppose you think we're chums now that you've seen my memories, Potter," Snape hissed as best he could through the still-mending throat.

"Actually, that's why I'm here!" Harry said cheerfully. "It seems you gave me a few extra memories that you probably didn't mean to."

.oOo.

"Indeed?" Snape struggled into a sitting position, looking bored.

"Indeed." Harry's grin widened. "Let's see, there was the one of you studying for your Transfiguration OWL – irrelevant – and you singing in the shower – dreadful – and then, let me think, what else was there, Hermione?" Harry tilted his head and looked at her as he tapped his chin.

"I don't know, Harry, but Severus really needs to rest and I think now is not the time to-"

"Oh yes! Silly me," Harry exclaimed, smacking his head. "There was that one of you shagging my mum the day before she got married."

.oOo.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and raised one eyebrow at Snape. Snape's face paled and Hermione only sighed.

"I- you saw- but- That is none of your business, Potter!" Snape snarled with as much authority as he could, but it was somewhat diluted by the racking cough that shook him.

"Unfortunately for my poor eyes, you made it my business when you mistakenly gave it to me," Harry replied, but there was no reproach in his voice. Snape looked relieved. "Let bygones be bygones, and all that, isn't that right, _Dad_?"

Harry watched in amusement as Snape fainted.

.oOo.

"Oh, Harry, that's going to leave a mark," Hermione tsked as they maneuvered Snape back into the bed.

"No less than what he deserves," Harry grunted. "I had to see _him_, Hermione, with my _mum_!" He made gagging noises.

"Yes, well, I expect you to tell him you were only kidding as soon as he comes to," she said, arranging Snape's cover.

Harry edged away. "Right now I've got Auror training – do tell Father I'm sorry we couldn't catch up – but I have lots of medals to show him–" He ducked out the door as Hermione threw a pillow.

.oOo.

"Where's my wand?" the raspy voice asked. "I want to kill Potter myself."

"Severus, he was joking – where are you going? You have a nasty bump on your head-"

Snape eased himself out of the bed. "I'm going home, where pesky brats can't find me," he snarled.

"Fine," Hermione huffed. "Let me just call someone in to help you." She flung the door open and immediately four Lily imposters rushed in, cooing and hugging Snape.

"OUT!" He roared. "That was evil," he said to Hermione.

"Yes, well, I believe you did mention that you liked your nurses naughty." She smirked.


	14. Two Minutes

"Severus, _please_."

"No." Snape uttered the word with as much disdain as he could muster.

"Whyever not? The solution is clear," McGonagall pleaded with him. Hermione looked on determinedly.

"I will not allow the Dark Lord to dictate – _that_," he hissed.

Hermione sighed and stepped forward. "Then you'll die," she announced. "It's simple: with Voldemort gone, his Death Eaters must either fornicate with a Muggle-born, or die. Don't let him win, Severus. He knew most of you wouldn't. You saw what happened to Lucius."

All three of them shuddered. It had not been pretty. Still, Snape shook his head no.

* * *

><p>"I still don't understand," McGonagall said. "Are you concerned about the 'Muggle-born' part of it?" She tried to sound sympathetic.<p>

"_No_, it is _not_ the Muggle-born part I take issue with – it's the _particular_ Muggle-born in question!" Snape and McGonagall both looked at Hermione. She pressed her lips together in frustration.

"Honestly, Severus, just close your eyes and persevere! Two minutes, and it will be over, and you'll be free to go about your life," she argued.

His eyes narrowed and he stalked closer until they were inches apart. "Two minutes, Miss Granger? Is that all you think of me?"

* * *

><p>She held her breath as she looked up at him. "Draco managed to f-forn… that is, he managed it with a Muggle-born, and in under a minute, at that. I seriously doubt this will be the most distasteful thing you've done in your – er, <em>lengthy<em> – lifetime."

Snape scowled at her. "Draco is a mere boy, and if anyone thinks finishing in under a minute is in any way commendable, they are stupider than Crabbe and Goyle combined." He grasped her hand and pulled her towards the door. "I am hardly _old, _as you so nicely implied." He lifted her easily.

* * *

><p>"Allow me to demonstrate how a <em>real <em>man does it, Miss Granger. Minerva – do not disturb us for at least an hour." Snape kicked the door open and McGonagall's eyebrows rose.

"Now, Severus, don't be foolish – I'm sure you don't need to prove anything-" Snape growled at McGonagall, which sent shivers directly to the areas of Hermione's body that she desperately hoped Snape was about to explore. In detail. For an hour.

Hermione winked at McGonagall as she was carried from the room. Snape didn't realize it yet, but she knew exactly how to get him where she wanted him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: For the 'Fornicate or Die' challenge on gs100. I'd taken a bit of a break from drabbles but this one caught my imagination. Sadly, I am still not JK Rowling, no matter how many stars I wish upon.**


	15. Rinse, Repeat

**Written for the "Leather" challenge on gs100.**

* * *

><p>"Severus, wait! Is this really necessary?" Hermione batted at the pale hands which were even now refusing to listen to her, insistently working at the fastenings on her robe.<p>

"I have already explained to you what the instructions say for this particular potion," Severus ground out, his lips compressed and his eyes focused on her clothing.

The robe fell. As he reached for her jumper, Hermione panicked and took a step back. "No! I don't understand-"

Growling, he reached for his wand, and in one swift movement, they were both naked. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and moaned in embarrassment.

* * *

><p>Taking advantage of her temporary silence, Severus grabbed the bottle of Mrs. Humdinger's Ultra-Bubbling Foaming Foam, pouring a large quantity into his hands. The effect was immediate: bubbles began to form quickly and it was all he could do to slap his hands on Hermione's body and apply the lather.<p>

_Why is she moaning again?_, he wondered irritably as he finished coating her from neck to feet and beginning to apply the foam to his own body. He refused to acknowledge the way she was now watching him from barely-cracked eyes.

He also refused to acknowledge how good she'd felt.

* * *

><p>Done with the lather, he handed her the book and moved to the cauldron. Wearing nothing but foam was extremely odd but he had not become a revered Potions Master by shying away from unconventional recipes. He prided himself on his willingness to test any method.<p>

His internal congratulating was interrupted by a loud groan from Hermione, and then—laughter?

"For Merlin's sake, woman!" he exploded.

Clutching her sides, Hermione managed to choke out, "You need glasses!"

"I beg your pardon?" _Had the witch gone funny in the head?_

"_Leather_, Severus! We are to protect ourselves with _leather_, not lather!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh, how will the revered Potions Master ever live THAT one down? I'm not JK Rowling, because I love to make Snape and Hermione do delicious, delicious things.**


	16. What Will Be

**Written for the "future tense" challenge on gs100.**

* * *

><p>"'You will fall irrevocably in love, and she who steals your heart will arrive at the stroke of twelve. Before the year is out, the Prince shall bow to the Lioness.'"<br>"I shall do nothing of the sort."  
>"Then you shall owe me twenty Sickles when Sybil's prediction comes true."<br>"Again: I will not."  
>"Well, you best be going down to the gate—Miss Granger will be here in time for lunch... at twelve."<br>"I trust you will all stop snickering by the time I return."  
>Professors McGonagall and Trelawney will still be smiling when he returns with his Lioness.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I had to excessively google "how to write in future tense" and I'm still not sure I nailed it. Also, I kind of took the easy way out and framed it as Trelawney's prediction...**


	17. Curiosity

**Written for the "black rose" challenge on gs100.**

* * *

><p>Severus' robes whipped around his ankles as he stepped out of his preferred Knockturn Alley apothecary and into the brisk October wind. About to return to the relative comforts of Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron, he paused when he saw Professor Granger exiting a shop further along. She glanced up and down the street before slipping into the crowd and hurrying off. Severus waited a beat and then strode to the doorway she'd just vacated moments ago. He did a double-take and reread the sign, confused. Perhaps he simply misunderstood.<p>

What had Granger been doing in a tattoo parlor?

* * *

><p>He could not simply ask her. It was far too Gryffindor and besides, doing so would mean revealing he was interested in the answer, which he most certainly was <em>not<em>.

And yet.

Severus increasingly found himself staring in Professor Granger's direction over breakfast at the staff table, formulating theories about her presence in the unassuming shop. Each theory was wilder than the one before. But idle theories, he could handle.

It was when he found himself awake at night, imagining the many delightful places she might have etched her tattoo, that the situation became untenable. He had to take action.

* * *

><p>His first attempt failed miserably. Apparently there was more than one faculty member at the school with secrets of a similar nature, because Severus' suggestion that the teachers register their body markings-purely for identification purposes, naturally-was shot down unceremoniously by none other than Minerva herself.<p>

Interesting, yes, but not his desired outcome.

Next he tried striking up a conversation with Professor Granger over afternoon tea. His question of "I wonder whether you might know of any new or unusual places to visit in London?" yielded only a burst of laughter and a shake of her head. Failure again.

* * *

><p>It was driving him madder with each passing week. He was so desperate that after one particularly blustery day in December he suggested she join him by the fire in his office for a cup of tea. Clearly surprised, she nonetheless agreed, and nervously he led the way. Once ensconced in his quarters, they sipped tea in silence. Professor Granger kept smiling at him encouragingly, and after a strongly-worded internal pep talk, he made his move.<p>

"Perhaps you should remove your robe?"

As he shouted an apology at her back, he reflected that he'd never seen her move so fast.

* * *

><p>He'd only meant that she ought to hang it by the fire to dry. But now she seemed to be avoiding being alone with him, and his curiosity about her tattoo had reached a fever pitch. Most damnably of all, Severus often caught her looking at him when she thought his attention was elsewhere. Her sly looks coupled with the mystery of her body art stirred him as nothing else had in a very long time. Still, he went out of his way to be polite, seeking her out and attempting to make her feel comfortable in his presence again.<p>

* * *

><p>Slowly his efforts paid off. Hermione, she insisted he call her now, sought him out to discuss the latest scholarly journals. He brought her unusual objects he found on ingredient-gathering sojourns. They took meals together, and she even volunteered to patrol corridors with him on occasion. They were, it seemed, friends.<p>

And if Severus eyed her backside speculatively or hoped for a glimpse of skin-then that was only leftover interest about her tattoo, nothing more. Certainly, if he spent the darkest hours of night imagining how he might see it, well, that was not unusual amongst _friends_, was it?

* * *

><p>The morning of his birthday, Severus found an invitation to dinner. Despite his attempts to remember they were friends and nothing more, all platonic thoughts fled when Hermione opened her door wearing a revealing robe in deep ruby red. She smiled, a new and different sort of smile, and he followed her like a puppy. Dinner lasted forever and no time at all; Hermione's touch as they ate and laughed was as drugging as fine wine.<p>

Later, when he finally did see her tattoo, he wasted no time tasting it. The black rose was every bit as delicious as her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I like to imagine that Hermione was onto him the whole time and just didn't want to tip her hand. :) I'll let you decide where the tattoo is!**


	18. Directions

**Written for the "squirm" challenge on gs100.**

* * *

><p>"One. You are to remain absolutely silent while in class."<p>

She nods.

"Two. You are to complete the assignments on time, just like the other students."

She nods again, more hesitantly this time.

"Three. You will not question my methods, my teachings, nor my authority."

She bares her teeth when she smiles and nods. He stops pacing.

"Four. No exceptions, even for eighth year war heroines. Do you understand, Miss Granger?"

Her final nod before she was allowed to escape.

If only Professor Snape knew how much that voice made her squirm in internal delight when he exercised his control...

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ah, that delicious voice!**


	19. Promptly Prompting

**Written for the "weekly challenge" challenge on gs100.**

* * *

><p>Inspiration struck at exactly the wrong moment. The parchment under Hermione's quill was snatched up with such force that the tail nearly hit her in the face.<p>

"Doodling during my lecture, Miss Granger? Detention, I think," Professor Snape hissed gleefully.

She viciously scrubbed cauldrons later that night, plotting myriads of ways to exact revenge and regain her list. She was nearly thirty items down, with little more than twenty to go! She'd never be able to rewrite all those ideas from memory. Glaring at her professor, she was taken aback when he held her list aloft and began to read.

* * *

><p>On Sunday, she dutifully wrote out her short story. After all, her prompt had been Hallows' Eve—easy enough to recall. As she filed her ficlet away in her journal, however, she worried over the upcoming weeks. It was no good: she'd have to reinvent her list.<p>

Or…she could steal the original back from Professor Snape.

Reminding herself that she'd faced down dragons, Snatchers, and Bellatrix, Hermione firmed her resolve and spelled her clothing all black. Now she just had to wait for midnight.

In the end, she ought to have expected his wards. A week of detentions it was.

* * *

><p>On her last evening of detention, he finally spoke. "I admit defeat. What exactly is the purpose of this list?" He held it up.<p>

Hermione almost snickered at the thought of Professor Snape trying to "decode" it. "It's a prompt list, sir," she answered, burying the amusement for another time—away from him.

"Prompting for what?" he asked, clearly exasperated.

"Writing." A blush. "I write a different short story every week for the whole year."

Silence.

So she forges ahead. "Actually, might I have the list back, Professor? I've tried, but I've had trouble recreating it from memory."

"No."

Drat.

* * *

><p>The second list, while still very good, nonetheless fell short of the first. Hermione had even resorted to polling the others in the common room for topics. Still, she was bound and determined to write <em>something <em>in her journal every week for the whole year.

With NEWTs and the summer hols just around the corner, Hermione found her free time reduced to practically nothing, but still managed to write. One day, Professor Snape kept her after class.

To her surprise, he produced a journal of his own.

"Do you have the rest of the prompts written down somewhere?" he asked sheepishly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This is...pure silliness. Set 8th year and Snape is magically alive. Air kisses to gs100, for without you, this 'weekly challenge challenge' would not exist. **


	20. Test Subject

**Written for the "merpeople challenge" on gs100.**

* * *

><p>"Merlin's balls, woman! Stop!" Severus clapped his hands over his ears to block out the horrible screeching. Hermione only planted her fists on her hips and glared, then continued to talk—in what he assumed was an agitated manner—in mermish.<p>

Hurrying about his lab and digging through his notes was no easy task with that awful sound ringing in his head. If he didn't know better, he might have thought the strident notes were shredding his very eardrums. Hermione dogged his heels, pointing and gesticulating wildly.

"This is the last time I let you test a potion," he muttered.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Shameless plug: looking for a test subject of my own to read an SSHG romance story involving mermaid!Hermione. It's about half written. Takers?**


	21. The List

**Written for the school supplies challenge on gs100.**

* * *

><p>"Professor, I've tried but I simply can't read your supply list. I was standing in Slug &amp; Jiggers trying to determine whether I needed 'fifty-seven niffler molars' or 'eighty-two muffled floopers'. It's ridiculous."<p>

Hermione frowned at her advisor as she held the list with its indecipherable scrawling out to him. This was her last term as a Potions apprentice. In a few months she would graduate and begin her career. Every year, Professor Snape put together some absurd supply list; every year she had to have him dictate it to her instead.

It was her favorite part of the year.

* * *

><p>He snatched the list from her hands. "I've quite clearly written 'thirty-five poplar saplings," he grouched, staring down at his list. Hermione readied her quill and parchment. "After that, seventeen crocodile hearts, four—"<p>

"I'm sorry. Seventeen...?"

"Crocodile hearts. Then four liters of dittany—"

"Four...liters...of... Could you slow down, please?"

"Dit-tan-y." She watched him press his lips together before enunciating each item with aggravated, deliberate slowness. "Eight—bags—of—snake—weed. Twenty-nine vials of bulbadox juice."

Hermione hurried to scribble down the list. "Once more—?"

"Bul. Ba. Dox. Juuuuuice."

She licked her lips excitedly. "I didn't catch that."

* * *

><p>"Bulbadox juice, bulbadox juice, bulbadox juice! Honestly, Miss Granger, what seems to be the problem?"<p>

Oh yes, her _problem_. The _problem _was that Hermione was quite convinced no other person on the planet had even a marginally comparable voice to Professor Snape, and when he read supply lists or ingredients to her in just such a manner, it was hands-down the most arousing thing to happen to her for months to follow. She had dated several men (and one woman) since the war, but none had held her interest for long. Not once Professor Snape had opened his mouth again.

* * *

><p>But she couldn't admit that to him, not until this apprenticeship was completed. They were shaping up to be the longest months of her life, including the roughly seven she'd spent confined to a tent. So she lied.<p>

"I...have a hearing problem, sir."

"You're a witch. Fix it." He scowled until she pointed at the list. "Nearly done. Two hundred eleven grams of beetle eyes, ninety flobberworms, three bicorn horns." He tossed the list to her desk and strode towards the lab. "Are you coming?"

"Several times, I hope," she muttered to herself, switching off the recording feature on her wand.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh, that voice...**


	22. That Pesky Potter

**Written for the school supplies challenge on gs100.**

* * *

><p>"No. Absolutely not." Severus eyed his son's chosen notebook disdainfully.<p>

"Please?" The large brown eyes gazed beseechingly up at him.

"I'll let you Crucio me before I-"

"Of course you can have it, sweetie," Hermione interjected, coming to stand with them. Grinning happily, the little boy gripped his official Harry Potter notebook and ran off.

"You cannot undermine me-"

"Look!" Hermione held up another notebook for his inspection. Her own face shone from the cover. "Don't I look fantastic?" she sighed.

Severus turned to the nearest redhead and gestured at Hermione's notebook. "We'll take the lot," he groused.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I do so love the idea of Severus' children idolizing Harry Potter. :)**


	23. Nighttime Fright

**Written for the strange knocking challenge at gs100.**

* * *

><p>Severus frowned when the knock came. Despite the lateness of the hour and his better judgment, he answered.<p>

He frowned even harder when Professor Granger fell into his arms, eyes wide and mouth babbling about strange noises in her closet.

Muttering to himself about witches who forgot they were witches, he followed her back to her room, wand drawn. On the way, he noticed what he hadn't before-the normally staid professor was garbed in the filmiest, frilliest excuse for pyjamas he had ever seen.

After he let Crookshanks out of the closet, a sheepish Hermione thanked him by undressing.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I actually wrote this thinking that Hermione didn't know what was in her closet, but most people read it as Hermione being crafty about getting Severus into her rooms. Either way, I enjoy the imagery!**


	24. Monster Mash-Up

**Written for several Halloween-themed challenges on gs100: Dark is the new black, Frankenstein monster, strange knocking, "One dark and rainy Halloween…"**

* * *

><p>"For fuck's sake!" Severus stormed over to his desk and unlocked the top drawer. The angry parchment that had been knocking about inside for the past three minutes, driving him batty, flew up to land docilely on his blotter. "Granger's," he growled, already knowing. The pesky girl was a mere assignment away from finishing her NEWT in Potions—but the last essay he'd set her was going to cause her a rather large problem. The memory of his brilliance set a smile on his face.<p>

That smile was quickly replaced by a moue of horror when he read her submission.

* * *

><p>"What the bloody hell is this?" he snarled when she deigned to answer his summons an hour later.<p>

"My last homework," she replied, a smug smirk on her features. "Is it acceptable?"

"Absolutely not!" he thundered, waving the offending parchment around. "It has nothing to do with Potions!"

"Oh, but you didn't say it had to," she answered calmly. "My task was, if I recall, 'Submit a complete essay in forty words or less'. That's less." She pointed at the paper.

Damn. He _had_ failed to specify. All previous illusions of brilliance fled in the face of her clever loophole.

* * *

><p>In the silence that ensued as they battled their wills against each other, Severus had a chance to notice her outfit. "Please tell me you are not garbed as Bellatrix Lestrange for All Hallows Eve?"<p>

Hermione remained pointedly quiet, jutting her chin out and eyeing her parchment inquiringly.

"Very well, you've received an O, you are free of me," he growled, leaning down to scrawl the grade across her paper. She squealed in happiness. "I suppose it will also delight you to know that I shall have difficulties sleeping tonight. What kind of monster dreams up such a horrid tale?"

* * *

><p>"Dark is the new black, Professor, didn't you know?" she asked playfully, gesturing to her costume and spinning in circles. Then she sobered. "Is my NEWT official?"<p>

"Merlin's beard, witch, you might at least act like you're not eager to be shot of Potions," he groused, signing the paperwork and sending it winging for the Ministry. "Does that satisfy you?"

"Hardly." She sauntered towards the door, then turned to give him an appraising look. "Sir, since I am no longer your student, I am at liberty to tell you...that if you are unable to fall asleep tonight, simply...summon me again."

* * *

><p>Her smile was enticing, and Severus felt his mouth fall slack as she exited his office with heretofore-unnoticed sway in her hips. He played the last several minutes back in his mind again and again, searching for any misconstrued signals. Every recollection brought the same interpretation, however.<p>

Hermione Granger wanted him.

Severus eagerly sat and reread her assignment, needing an excuse to call her back later.

_"One dark and rainy Halloween, I was awakened by the sound of hammering. After that, I could barely hear the muffled sound of dirt covering the coffin over the sound of my own screams."_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I've been remiss in drabbling this month as the SSHG giftfest is underway, but I wanted to make up for it with a big ol' mash-up of challenges! You have to squint a bit at some of them. I thought it would be hilarious if Hermione's only assignment to graduate was to write something short, and then I came across a list of the scariest two-sentence stories, which suited this perfectly! Enjoy!**


	25. Lady Godiva's Ride

**Written for the hp_halloween exchange on livejournal, a 200-word Halloween gift fest! My prompter was the amazing teddyradiator, and I am so honored to write for her! Thanks to my betas Jemennuie and WorryWart!**

**Summary: Ron attends the annual Malfoy Halloween Ball and witnesses a tryst that even wild horses can't stop.**

* * *

><p>Every year, the costumes at the Malfoy Halloween Ball were more elaborate than the last. The who's who of the Wizarding world tricked themselves out in style. Still, a hush fell over the room when a nude Hermione Granger rode in on a massive white steed, her rampant curls magically elongated to cover her most interesting bits. Severus, himself a fancily-kit up Count of Monte Cristo, knew he would not rest until he had seen... touched... <em>tasted<em> what Lady Godiva's hair hid.

Later, he rolled off of her, grunting in satisfaction. Hermione remained sprawled on top of his cloak in the manor gardens. Her horse stamped its hooves agitatedly nearby.

"That was exactly what I needed," she panted.

"I'm honored I could oblige," he drawled, wondering how soon they could go again.

Hermione chuckled and rolled to face him. "Next time let's get you fully naked, hmm?" She toyed with the frilly collar of his shirt.

"We cannot all be as stunning in the buff as you," he replied. Then he frowned. "What was Weasley thinking, cheating on _you_?"

"No idea," she answered breezily.

"Well, he's missing out," Severus avowed.

"Hardly!" Hermione trilled. "Who did you think the horse was?"


End file.
